


The Intricacies Of Emotion

by immaculategayvibes



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode s01e06: Rare Species, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21971230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immaculategayvibes/pseuds/immaculategayvibes
Summary: ""Legend says witchers don't feel emotions," Jaskier says, approaching the subject with a lot of care most people lack. His voice is inquisitive, but also sounds like he's trying to say that Geralt doesn't have to respond. "When anyone asks you, you don't give a straight answer.""I don't think you feel nothing. It's a lot more subtle, but it's there. Still, I can't help but wonder.""After everyone has gone to their tents to sleep, Jaskier and Geralt sit and talk.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 67
Kudos: 2708





	The Intricacies Of Emotion

**Author's Note:**

> There was a part where i think yen talked to geralt about emotions and i got the idea for this but it took nearly a whole week for me to start (and finish) this fic
> 
> They might be a little ooc??? Ive written geralt once for geregis and never have i ever written jaskier
> 
> ALSO this is based in the tv show i havent finished the books lmao

_ They're alone, _ Geralt realizes. All the others on the trip have already retreated to their tents, leaving him with only the moon, the smouldering ashes of their campfire, and Jaskier. 

Jaskier, who is still sitting next to him, who is quietly strumming on his lute. The tune is familiar, it's the tune that made the bard famous across the Continent. He's not singing.

The quiet tones of the lute are almost comforting. Between the Law of Surprise he invoked over a decade ago and the dragon they're about to face, this moment of near silence is relaxing.

Like there is nothing in the world to worry about. Like all their troubles are for tomorrow. 

He almost feels human in that moment. 

Jaskier is leaning against him. He's turned slightly, his back resting against Geralt's shoulder. Geralt doubts the armor is very comfortable for a backrest, but even if Jaskier has noticed, it doesn't seem to bother him.

He's lost in his own little world, half asleep and yet still playing those notes. 

It's odd not to hear his voice. It's surprising how quickly Geralt got used to hearing Jaskier's voice wherever he goes, whether it's a feast where the bard sings or their travels where Jaskier talks enough for the both of them.

It's different. 

Different from all the people he has met in his travels.

He's never been this afraid of doing wrong with someone. Scared of scaring them away. But he's yelled at Jaskier, called him every cruel thing and even still the bard came walking back.

Perhaps hurt, but he never truly left.

Jaskier was the first to sing his praises, the first since Blaviken who didn't see a monster when he looks at Geralt. 

The Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf…

It all becomes just him when there's no one there to call him by the many nicknames he has accumulated over the years.

"What are you thinking about?" 

Jaskier's voice is quiet for once, barely more than a whisper. Even still, it pierces the prior serenity. Geralt looks at the one he reluctantly calls friend, and finds the bard looking up at him. 

Even though Jaskier seems to be fully awake again, he doesn't move. He's still leaning against Geralt, still has his lute in his hands even though he stopped playing when he started speaking. 

"Nothing," he answers, because he can't seem to find the words for what he has been thinking about.

_ Thinking about Jaskier,  _ his mind supplies, but he shuts it down. He was thinking about Jaskier because Jaskier was one person who appreciated him for him. It is only chance his mind wandered to the bard pressed against him. He's not the only one who doesn't see the Butcher of Blaviken. Not anymore.

People still view him as a mutant, something unnatural and to be feared, but no longer they're whispering about his mistakes. 

Hadn't it been human? Human to fall for Renfri's charm, human to be angry after she betrayed him? 

"Legend says witchers don't feel emotions," Jaskier says, approaching the subject with a lot of care most people lack. His voice is inquisitive, but also sounds like he's trying to say that Geralt doesn't have to respond. "When anyone asks you, you don't give a straight answer."

Jaskier turns his head back, rests it on Geralt's shoulder, looks at the stars above them. Geralt follows his gaze. "I don't think you feel nothing. It's a lot more subtle, but it's there. Still, I can't help but wonder."

The bard pauses and sighs, as though he's unsure of where to go next. "Feeling emotion is one thing. Feeling love and hatred…"

"I know how to love. How to hate," Geralt admits, because it's just them and there's just something so comfortable under that night sky. Like he would tell Jaskier anything. "It's just… It's complicated."

"Love is complicated." Jaskier absently tugs at the strings of his lute. "It's so much easier to sleep with a woman and never once to speak with her again. To live in solitude." 

"You spend your days singing in front of crowds, Jaskier," Geralt remarks. "I doubt you know much of solitude."

"I perform, yes. Not often in front of the same crowd. Most people I meet, I meet once. There hasn't been anything constant since… Well, since I met you." 

Geralt remains silent. It makes sense, that Jaskier's existence is as lonely as his own despite the laughter and the loud conversations he holds like he's known every person in every inn he visits for years despite not having met them before.

"Do you love Yennefer?" 

Geralt turns his head back down, catching Jaskier's gaze. "I… I care for her. Perhaps it's love. Not romantic, but a form of love nonetheless." 

Jaskier opens his mouth, thinks for a bit, and shuts it again. His eyes seem to be studying Geralt's features. They have never been this close before. It never felt this intimate before when Jaskier touched him anywhere. 

Jaskier looks contemplative. 

Geralt wonders why it takes so long for his companion to think over the words he spoke. Is it that odd for a witcher to admit their love for someone? 

"This is different," Jaskier says, just when Geralt starts thinking they might be falling back into silence. "I have never felt anything for anyone, really, so it's all really different to me. And I'm sorry if I have been annoying."

Geralt is tempted to run a hand through Jaskier's hair, to go to his tent and sit and let the bard sleep with his head in his lap.

_ It is different,  _ he realizes. He's never wanted anything like this. Even the women he has spent more time around, he never wanted anymore from them than sex. He doesn't dislike women, but no single one has ever caught his eye more than platonically or physical attraction. 

None like Jaskier.

That's strange, isn't it? He's supposed to want this with women. It's him, the witcher who goes around the continent, slaying monsters, fucking women. 

Except the one he wants more from than just companionship or sex is a man who has slept with at least as many women as he has. Flirted with many more, most like.

"I started the topic with a particular goal in mind," Jaskier admits with a chuckle. "Closure, perhaps."

"Do you want Yennefer?" Geralt asks before he can stop himself. He isn't jealous. He could have Yennefer if he wanted, and Jaskier…

Jaskier is a man. Off-limits.

"No!" Jaskier sounds frustrated, voice raising just a little. He sits up, and Geralt misses the warmth at his side. "I have no desire for that sorceress." 

"Then, why?"

"I want you to know I cherish you as one of my dearest friends. Telling you this is me trusting you with something I haven't told anyone. As many women as I sleep with, I have also been cursed with hopeless attraction to men." 

Hopeless. Why? What is so hopeless that he sounds utterly broken as he tells Geralt? What happened that makes Jaskier so ashamed of it?

"Jaskier, I-"

"You don't have to say anything. When we have killed the dragon, I'll leave." Jaskier gets up. 

"No." He says it before he can think. Grabs Jaskier's arm. 

When did their lives turn into those romantic tales old wives like to tell? 

Jaskier looks at him, desperate and scared. "'No'?" he whispers. 

"I don't want you to leave." He's not used to admitting that aloud. He never shows it either, always angry with Jaskier. 

"I know you don't like my presence-"

"I do." Geralt gets up as well. 

Witchers don't feel.

Bullshit. 

"But I was jealous of Yennefer because she has your attention," Jaskier whispers, like his feelings for Geralt are something best left unspoken. His eyes are anywhere but on Geralt's face.

Geralt sighs. "And you think I felt nothing all the times you flirted with some girl on the streets?" 

"I-... What?" 

A woman would have been in his bed before the emotional talk would even start.

"Jaskier," he says, and he grabs Jaskier's chin to gently force him to look up at him again. "I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay by my side, singing your stupid songs and talking on the long roads that would otherwise be so silent." 

_ I want you. _

The words go unspoken, but he knows they're communicated through the kiss that follows. 

It's so different from kissing a woman, and yet nothing about it is. Maybe it's simply the difference between kissing for the sake of something more later and kissing because…

Well, because he wanted to. Because having someone in his arms that he cares about, kissing languidly, is pleasant. 

There's too much left unsaid, so eventually they break the kiss and just look at each other. Geralt's arms wound around Jaskier's waist, while Jaskier had circled his neck. 

Even still, under the moonlight and next to the smouldering ashes of the campfire, it was only them. 

Just Jaskier's soft laugh as he hides his red face in the crook of Geralt's neck. "I never thought…" he breathes out, but he doesn't finish the sentence. 

"Me neither," Geralt agrees quietly. 

"We should probably go to sleep," Jaskier mutters.

All that's left to say fell away when they had looked at each other. 

"We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Jaskier adds. 

Geralt nods, but he doesn't let go. He wants to take this slow, but he doesn't want to release Jaskier. 

"Can I… Can I sleep with you?" Jaskier doesn't lift his head. "I'm…afraid something might attack in the middle of the night." 

He understands that fear. He doesn't feel it himself, knowing his abilities make it very difficult for something to kill him in his sleep, but he's seen it in so many people. "Of course." 

* * *

And when, the next morning, they find the dead body of Yennefer's escort, Geralt sighs in relief.


End file.
